Inktober 2024 - 10 - Nomadic

There is loneliness in running away. Or maybe it's just when you sincerely wish you didn't have to, when you're not running either from something or to something else, but you're just being told to go, without any particular reason that you can see, and if it were up to you, you would be content staying where you are without any change in circumstances.

I have lost count of how many places I've been chased out of. I don't even remember where I'm from originally, and of course, there isn't anyone to remind me. As cruel as that sounds, I've come to envy displaced populations, because at last they have each other. They can hang on to the idea that home is more the people than it is the place. I happen to think it's probably a little bit of both, so losing one is just as bad as losing the other, but do I even have a frame of reference to make such a claim?

Before you ask, no, I do not know why nobody has ever wanted me anywhere near them. As far as I can tell, I'm blatantly average. Average height, average build, average looks, no distinctive markings of any kind, no peculiar practices. I have seen other people everywhere, and I have seen my reflection, and I genuinely am incapable of telling what could possibly disgust them this much. I am truly the kind of person you should not even notice is there. I mind my own business, do not ask anything of anyone. I'm self-sufficient in every way: I hunt and gather my own food, sew my own clothes, build my own shelters, and I do all that with great respect for the land I'm on. I don't steal from anyone, and my environmental impact is null, so what is the big deal?

I used to ask. I used to plea. At one point, I even tried demanding an explanation from the people sending me away, but I was never able to get a straight answer. It was always gibberish. As it turns out, a united front without any valid argument to support its opinion seems to always have more weight than a single person with the truth on their side. And the worst part is, I've witnessed how they behave toward each other, and the kind of strangers they do welcome with open arms. How could I possible be worse than any of the criminals born and raised among them? How can they let hordes of invaders in without flinching, actually actively encouraging them to come in some extreme cases, and then send a lone harmless visitor packing without further ado?

I have stopped asking. These days, I even manage to anticipate the order, and I move before anyone asks me to. It's still exhausting, but at least there isn't the added insult of listening to nonsense and explicit rejection. I keep looking for a place without anyone there to chase me away, but does that even exist? I'll probably die as I've always lived: nomadic.